


There’s No Place Like Homecoming

by InsightfulInsomniac



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Fluff, Homecoming, M/M, and students being stressed, fun high school times, it’s just a big party, just couples being cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-15 13:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12322275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsightfulInsomniac/pseuds/InsightfulInsomniac
Summary: Toccoa High School’s homecoming is always a big event. For most of the crew, it’s their senior year, and the series of events is nearly predictable. Nearly.Just the Band of Brothers gang during senior year homecoming week, because that’s currently my life.





	1. Monday: The Big Ask(s)

**Author's Note:**

> Totally inspired by the fact that it’s senior year homecoming week for me, and I’ve decided to distract myself from the stress of planning half of the entire event by writing the gang doing it too.
> 
> Also!! Vote for homecoming queen on my tumblr, @insightfulinsomniac. Just type “homecoming AU” into the search bar and the post will come up!

For some, the idea of being asked to homecoming is the pinnacle of their high school aspirations. It’s much bigger than prom just because of the sheer magnitude of the students attending, meaning that jittery freshmen can make posters and buy flowers and jewelry for their potential dates.

The seniors know how it’s done by now.

Sure, some people love the drama and flamboyancy of it all, but seniors either know who they’re going with or just don’t care. Besides, you don’t want a date unless you’re comfortable grinding with them for the greater part of the night. Seniors know that.

Practically the entire school knows that Class President Dick Winters and Vice President Lewis Nixon will go together, so when Lew posts a handsome shot of the two of them on Instagram with the caption “Round 4,” no one’s really surprised. It’s nearly a bigger tradition than homecoming itself.

“I like that picture,” Dick comments as he likes Nix’s celebratory post. “Can you send it to me?”

Lew hums, not looking away from his own phone, his head resting comfortably in his boyfriend’s lap. “Email or text?”

“Shut up.”

“It’s an honest question!” Nix protests, but an amused smirk tugs at his lips nonetheless.

“Email,” the redhead replies, with just a hint of sheepishness.

Lew snorts, and Dick scoffs. “It’s so I can send it to my mom, Nix. She doesn’t have text messaging.”

“Oh, I thought it was because you can’t remember how to save a picture from your texts,” he teases.

“I know how.”

Lew laughs. “I hope you do. I spent way too much time teaching you when you finally bought an iPhone.”

Dick frowns. “I liked my flip phone.”

“And I like spamming your phone with selfies when you leave it on the table. Deal with it.”

******

Ronald Speirs transferred to Toccoa High his junior year, and his entrance created many rumblings throughout the school. If riding into his first day of school on a motorcycle wasn’t enough, rumors quickly spread about the scary guy with a leather jacket and undeniably great hair.

_I heard he was expelled from his last school because he punched a kid for cheating off of his history test!_

_No, he was expelled, but it was because he punched a teacher for giving him a bad grade on a history test._

_My second-cousin’s best friend used to go to school with him. He was in his history class and he said that it’s true. Speirs definitely punched a teacher. Knocked him out, too._

Whatever he did, it made an impression. Few people were brave enough to step within two feet of him, save from the kindhearted junior Class Secretary, Carwood Lipton, who walked right up to him and offered to show him around. A month later, Speirs asks Lip to homecoming with a dozen homemade oatmeal cookies, and the surprising part isn’t that he asked, but that Lip said yes.

They started dating a week later.

Therefore, it’s not much of a surprise that Ron asks Carwood again this year with just a little help from Harry.

******

“If you crash my bike, I swear you won’t be physically able to dance with Kitty at homecoming.”

Harry holds his hands up in defense. “Understood. I think the hours we’ve spent practicing have made me qualified enough to ride it about two feet around the parking lot.”

Ron still doesn’t waver. “I love my bike more than almost anything in the world. Definitely more than you.”

“I feel so loved,” he grumbles, but pats Speirs’s back nonetheless. “I get it. Bike is number two. Lip is number one. Harry is...?”

Ron glares at him.

“Apparently not on the list,” he grins, shrugging. “Well, I guess you’re going to have enlist someone from your list to help you...”

He begins to walk away slowly, just waiting to hear the defeated huff of breath from his friend. Speirs sighs, and Harry’s mind cheers in a little victory.

“You’re on the list, goddamnit.”

Harry turns with a smug smirk. “What number?”

“Just get on my damn bike and don’t crash it. Lip’s going to be here any second.”

As if on cue, Ron spots his boyfriend exiting the school and walking towards their daily meeting place, the tree by Ron’s usual parking spot.

Carwood frowns as he approaches, but accepts a quick kiss anyway. “Where’s your bike?”

The sound of an engine roaring to life echoes around the parking lot, and Harry pulls into the parking space just seconds later. “Hey, Lip. Congrats.”

“For what? And what the hell are you doing on Ron’s bike?”

Harry grins and unzips the leather jacket he borrowed from Speirs, revealing a shirt that reads “Will you go to homecoming with Ron?”

A laugh bubbles out of Carwood, and he hugs his boyfriend tightly. “You’re amazing. Of course I’ll go with you.”

A high-pitched squeal echoes from the car parked next to them, and out steps Kitty, ending the recording on her phone. “You two are too cute!”

Pecking both of them on the cheek, Kitty moves to stand in front of them. “Harry, get in here. I want a picture.”

That picture will go down in history as one of the few captured moments in which Ronald Speirs reveals a beaming, toothy smile.

******

Bright-eyed freshman Babe Heffron practically bounced into his first block elective, Culinary 1, on the first day of school. He knew that his lifelong best friend, sophomore Bill Guarnere, was also going to be in that class, and he was ready to take on anything Mrs. Harnish could throw at him.

What he didn’t expect was to be sitting right next to the most beautiful human being he’s ever seen.

And of course, Babe makes an ass of himself.

“Hi! I’m Babe. Not your babe, my babe. I’m Babe. It’s my nickname,” he stammers, wiping his suddenly sweaty hands on his jeans. “Jesus Christ. I’m sorry —“

The raven-haired boy chuckles, an amused smirk gracing his angelic features. “‘S okay. I’m not much better at introductions. Eugene. Eugene Roe.”

 _Even his voice is perfect_. “Babe Heffron. My name’s Edward, but only the nuns call me that. My friends call me Babe.”

“Babe,” Roe repeats, as if he’s testing out the name. “Alright, nice to meet you.”

While Babe was internally freaking out, Mrs. Harnish gave them their cooking partners. Of course he was paired with Gene. Of course.

That next semester of (awkward) bliss continued on with a few near-kitchen fire incidents (thanks to Babe) and even more incredible meals (thanks to Gene). It also had one particular day when Babe asked Gene to homecoming for the first time, kind of out of the blue but kind of planned.

See, he was supposed to do it at lunch, but he got all flustered seeing Gene push up his sleeves to chop some tomatoes. So it just came out. Luckily, Bill was in the class, which meant that the flowers he’d been carrying around for Babe were in the room.

Two homecomings later, it’s Babe’s third and Gene’s fourth. They’d been dating for nearly as long, and it goes without saying that they would go together.

That doesn’t mean that Babe’s going to let Gene’s last homecoming be casual.

Instead, he pulls out all the stops. Not in an over-the-top, dramatic way, but in the most romantic way Babe (and Bill, Frannie, Julian, and Spina) could conjure up,

Gene looks gorgeous, as per usual, but he looks even more ethereal under the moonlight. Babe’s breath catches whenever he looks at him, which might be a problem when it comes to the big moment.

Currently, they’re laying on a soft blanket in a quiet meadow, surrounded by nothing but the peaceful sounds of nature and the stars. Bill had scoped out the location for them, and Babe had prepared a light evening picnic.

Gene’s running his fingers through Babe’s hair absentmindedly, almost putting him to sleep. Babe’s head is on Roe’s chest, just enjoying the comforting rise and fall of his boyfriend’s chest.

“See that? That’s Ursa Minor,” Gene points out, using his unoccupied hands to point to a particular cluster of stars. “She starts with that bright one, right there.”

Babe makes a considering noise, his hand drifting ever-so-gently to his pants pocket to retrieve an envelope.

“Gene, I got you this.”

“What?” Eugene blinks down at him, his eyes darting between Babe’s face and the letter he holds. “Edward, it’s not my birthday, it’s not a holiday —“

“I need an excuse to get my boyfriend a present?” Babe asks, raising his eyebrows in challenge. “Just open it.”

With a sigh, Gene does as he instructs, gasping when he reads the certificate. “Babe, you serious?”

He beams up at him. “Yeah. Funny you would point out Ursa Minor, ‘cause your star is right to the left of her.”

“You really gave me a star as a way to ask me to homecoming?” Roe repeats, gaping at the redhead.

Babe nods, smug. “Mm hm. You deserve every star in the sky.”

“Sometimes I really can’t believe you’re real,” Gene breathes, leaning down to kiss him deeply.

When they break apart, Babe grins. “So, ya coming with me or not?”

Gene rolls his eyes. “I can’t let that star go to waste.”

******

David Webster and Joe Liebgott were those two kids in middle school who were caught making out in the stairwell and then pretended to hate each other until they got caught again.

The system worked for them for years — until real feelings had to go and mess things up.

They made out in the hallways every year, went to homecoming together every year, and danced obscenely under fluorescent lights every year.

But this year — this year — is their first time as an official, domestic couple.

And it’s just Joe’s luck that the theme is Under the Sea.

The moment the theme was released to the school, Lieb’s mermaid princess was texting him furiously from his English class.

DW: LIEB IT’S UNDER THE SEA

DW: LIEB DID YOU HEAR THEM

DW: I CAN WEAR MY SHARK TIE

JL: oh god

DW: OR AT LEAST MY SHARK PIN

DW: IT’S APPROPRIATE ATTIRE JOSEPH

JL: i love u but the tie is too much

DW: The pin? Please?

JL: the best part about texting is that I can’t see ur puppy dog eyes

A Snapchat notification pops up at the top of Joe’s phone.

He groans, but knows Web would be pissed if he didn’t open it. As expected, a picture of David’s pouting face fills his screen, his big blue eyes and jutted bottom lip looking more pathetic and enticing than ever.

Joe snaps a quick shot of himself and types out a short reply of “Fuck.”

Web snapchats him back in less than a minute, an all-too-proud grin on his face. He captioned the image with, “Shark pin it is. I’ll save the tie for something else.”

“What can you wear a shark tie to?” Joe snaps him back.

David’s reply is fast yet again. It’s a picture of him looking quite innocent, all big eyes and faux-contemplative expression. The word “Bed” is his only reply.

“Fuck,” Joe answers, just a picture of his desk now. “You can’t say shit like that.”

“Can and did,” David sends, complete with a purposefully subtle lip bite.

“We’re leaving the dance and renting a hotel room,” Lieb decides, sending a picture of himself again.

Ding. “Isn’t that a prom night tradition?” Web counters.

“We’ll do that for prom too,” Joe promises, glancing up to make sure the teacher isn’t watching him too closely.

“Did you just ask me to prom and to homecoming?” David questions, barely able to hide his grin in his snap.

“Guess so,” Joe sends, giving into the smile that stretches across his face before he takes the photo and sends the message.

******

George Luz loves his boyfriend. Really loves him.

Except for homecoming week.

You know how you can love someone unconditionally, but sometimes you just don’t like them?

That’s what happens every year for one week in October.

If he’s being honest, George knows he’s not being boyfriend of the year either. He’s involved in multiple clubs who put together homecoming activities and he’s on the cheerleading squad, which means practice almost every night.

But Joe’s on the football team. Which means that for one night of every year, the pressure is all on him.

Inevitably, that means the stress from practice and pressure often seeps too deeply into Joe, and he gets grumpy.

George does what he can — he massages his boyfriend, encourages him, and waits for him after cheerleading practice for another half hour. It’s not that Joe doesn’t care or doesn’t express his affection during that week — he brings George a donut and an overly-sweetened blended coffee drink every morning with tired eyes but a smiling, apologetic expression.

It’s his way of saying, “I know I’m awful to be with this week, but I love you and I appreciate you.”

George understands. Joe still kisses him goodnight before he leaves his house, but he doesn’t do much else. And if there’s one thing George Luz can’t stand, it’s being ignored.

That’s why this week is hell for them. Joe retreats into himself from all the stress, and George just explodes from all of his own.

So, they have an agreement. They always make a big fuss about the cutesy aspect of homecoming the week before — Joe gives George candy or flowers and they post that celebratory picture to social media before anyone else. They match their ties (a bowtie for George) and they figure out where they’re taking pictures.

Then when hell week starts, they take the tiniest of breaks.

George goes out with his friends after school instead of hanging with Joe until practice. After practice, he still waits for him and comes home with him for an hour or so, but they do homework quietly instead of snuggle and talk. The next day, they’ll repeat it. Enough interactions that they’re not starving each other for contact, but enough breaks that they can vent in their own ways.

Monday starts it all. Donuts, coffee, practice, homework, and a good night kiss. It’s worked for three years, and it’ll work for four.


	2. Tuesday: Last-Minute Dress Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faye needs a dress, stat. Who else but George Luz tags along for the ride?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, alright. I know I’m a day behind, but I had a really bad day yesterday so here it is today!

“Bye,” George grins against Joe’s lips, backed into the corner of the athletic wing’s lobby. “Have fun at practice.”

He presses a kiss to the corner of George’s mouth. “Mm hm. Stop in to see me for a bit, okay? On your way home.”

“Separation anxiety?” George teases.

“Something like that.”

“Hey! The mall closes early on weekdays! We need to go!”

George peeks over his boyfriend’s shoulder at Faye, who, despite her urging to hurry up, makes no moves to escape from Skip’s arms — which are wrapped around her waist, his head resting on her shoulder as he laughs with her.

“I don’t see you making any moves to leave!” George retorts, but he squeezes Joe’s bicep and reluctantly slips out of his embrace anyway.

“I don’t want you to go,” Skip grumbles grumpily, visibly pouting.

“Must be something in the air,” Faye comments. “Or some football player boyfriend virus.”

Joe snorts. “It’s called “Coach is making us do 60 meter sprints today on top of weight training and play runs.””

“And I’d much rather spend my time with you than a bunch of sweaty dudes,” Skip adds, then shrugs over at Joe and George. “And you probably have a very small selection of sweaty dudes you’d like to hang out with.”

Toye chuckles, shouldering his football bag and planting one last kiss into George’s hair. “C’mon, Skip. Can’t be late or there’s more running for the both of us.”

Skip huffs, but follows his teammate to the locker rooms nonetheless. “Have fun dress shopping! I can’t wait to see it!” He calls with a wink, and Faye grins as she waves goodbye.

As soon as he’s out of view, Faye grabs George by the arm and practically hauls him out the school, nearly sprinting across the parking lot to her car.

“Can’t believe I waited this long to find a dress,” she mutters, throwing her backpack into the backseat and slamming the door shut behind her. “There’s gonna be none left; I know it.”

“Relax. I’m sure you’re not the only one who hasn’t bought their dress yet,” George soothes carefully, buckling his seatbelt.

“Highly unlikely. Fran bought her dress three weeks ago, Renée bought hers last weekend, and Kitty literally ordered hers the first week of school.”

Faye frustratedly turns the key in the ignition, backing out of the parking space with more anger than George is comfortable with.

“Woah there, speed demon. Let’s not die before we try to find you a dress.”

She snorts. “Pot, meet kettle.”

George grins. “Fair enough.”

******

“God, I’ve never been more relieved to see so many sparkles,” George comments as Faye marches with sheer determination into the first store she sees that displays glamorous dresses.

“It’s senior year, so I want it to be special,” she muses, running her hand gently over the material of a bejeweled bodice. “I wore a navy blue dress freshman year, a red one sophomore year, and a black one last year.”

George hums. “That one was sexy. Skip was practically drooling all night.”

“I loved that dress, but I want this one to be my dream homecoming dress,” she replies, already drifting to the other side of the store.

“For the record, I’ll happily critique pictures of your potential prom dresses, but I’m not going shopping with you for that,” he remarks, earning a laugh from her.

“Deal,” she turns to him, a blush pink and a silvery-gray dress already in her arms. “I really appreciate you tagging along, George.”

He smiles. “No problem, really. You’re my best girlfriend; I’d do anything for you.”

She grins innocently back at him. “Anything? Like... holding these dresses while I shop?”

George groans, but extends his arms nonetheless. “Curse my generosity.”

Faye smiles sweetly as she dumps the continuously growing pile of dresses onto him. “Thank you!”

******

“Turn,” George commands with a twirl of his finger, and she obeys. He makes a considering noise, looking her up and down.

“Honestly, it’s too little-girly for my taste,” he comments from his seat on the bench outside her dressing room. “The pink frilly lace and sparkly belt make it look like you’d wear it to some imaginary tea time.”

She sighs. “Dress number six is a no. We’re halfway through the pile, George, and not one has worked.”

“You need something unique. Something you know will look good on you, but something you haven’t seen before.”

“Okay,” she nods, pulling he curtain.

Two dresses later, a gasp sounds from inside the changing stall, followed by a squeal and some jumping feet visible from outside.

“George! I think this is it!”

He jumps up at the forceful slide of the curtain, and Faye turns around. “Zip me up?” She asks, barely able to contain her excitement.

He pulls the zipper up her back and buttons the two buttons holding the halter strap in place around her neck, and steps away from him with the biggest beam on her face.

“It’s perfect,” she breathes, admiring herself in the mirror.

The dress is a body-con, just like last year’s. However, the curving halter neckline and the mesh cutout at the waist that’s accentuated by sparkling beads make the dress absolutely stunning.

It’s a jade green, nearly a dark teal, and the color complements her hair and skin tone perfectly. She twirls without being asked, clapping her hands as she sees the grin on George’s face.

“It looks gorgeous, Faye,” he gushes. “You look beautiful! Skip’s going to pass out when he sees you.”

Faye squeals again, bouncing on her feat before she hugs George tightly. “I’m so happy I found something!”

He laughs. “Believe me, I couldn’t be happier.”

******

“Thanks for the ride, Faye,” George remarks as he opens the passenger’s side door. “See you tomorrow!”

She smiles, waving to him. “Bye, hun!”

As he’s walking to the doorstep, George pulls out his phone and shoots Joe a quick text to let him know he’s here. In less than ten seconds, the door opens to reveal a tired-looking Joe Toye, dressed in Toccoa HS Varsity Football sweatpants and a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off.

“Hey,” he greets sleepily, yawning as he pulls George inside. “How was shopping?”

“Good. She found a great dress,” he smiles, plopping into Joe’s lap when he falls back into his position on the nearby couch. “Really looks beautiful.”

“I’m glad,” Joe yawns again, running a hand through George’s hair. “I miss you.”

George chuckles softly. “We see each other every day!”

“Yeah, but we’re both so busy this week,” he complains, looping his free arm around George’s waist and pulling him even closer. “I miss this. I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” George agrees, snuggling into Toye’s chest. “I’m gonna fall asleep here if I’m not careful.”

“Text your folks you’re sleeping over here,” Joe suggests. “You’ve got everything you need for school in the morning and you have a change of clothes here.”

“Okay,” George smiles, not even considering his options for a minute. “I love how when we’re supposed to be giving each other space we just have sleepovers.”

“That’s what love is, Georgie,” Joe sighs, bringing a blanket up around them as they lay on the couch, channel surfing and enjoying the relative silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Faye’s dress is a description of my dress for this year’s hoco :)

**Author's Note:**

> I promise there will be more explanations of the “askings” later on in the fic, specifically for the homecoming court girls (aka Kitty, Faye, Fran, and Renèe).


End file.
